


Weakness

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 06:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14490942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: When the Governor captures the reader and Daryl, he is determined to find out everything he can about the rest of their group, so when he senses the archer's weakness, he'll do whatever he has to to exploit it.





	Weakness

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request that was sent in anonymously on Tumblr about 6 weeks ago now...
> 
> ‘can you do one where Daryl and reader are taken by the governor and he wants to know about the prison and everyone in it so he starts torturing Daryl for information but it doesn’t work the governor threatens the reader and realised he could torture the reader to break Daryl so he starts cutting her and the reader begs him not to give up any information but when reader starts getting weak from the blood loss Daryl tells the governor and has to save the reader’

The air was filled with the thud of blows landing and the muffled grunts of the archer and you pictured him biting down hard on his lip, determined not to shout out in pain as his flesh broke and bruised under the onslaught.  The curtain that separated the room where he was being so brutally beaten from where you sat, tied to a rickety wooden chair, allowed you to see only the shadows of his attackers as they stood over him, monstrous and vicious. You wished you could press your hands over your ears, to block out the noise, but they were tightly bound behind your back, so you began to hum instead, the sound rising to a high-pitched whine of terror as the volume from next door increased.  You felt helpless, scared for Daryl’s life and your own, held by this unknown leader who called himself the Governor and his soldiers. You had to get out of this, but you just couldn’t see how.  Daryl would have known.  He would have come up with something, but the relentless torture that he was being subjected to would be dulling his instincts, slowing his reactions.  You were the weaker link here.  They should be beating you.  Another groan escaped from the archer’s lips, louder this time, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to pretend that you were somewhere, anywhere else, letting your humming grow louder.   _This isn’t happening.  This can’t be happening_.

‘Where is she?’ you heard Daryl snarl.  ‘Ya better not lay a damn finger on her or I swear I’ll-‘

‘What?  What are you gonna do?’

‘I’m gon’ kill ya.’

The answering laugh was cold and cruel, and it sent shivers down your spine.  ‘Can’t help but feel that’s a bit of an empty threat considering your current situation.  It doesn’t have to be this hard, y’know.  Just tell us where you come from.  How many people have you got?  Where are you holed up?  That’s all we want to know.’

‘I ain’t tellin’ you shit.’

‘Fine.’ You heard the Governor sigh, and then the sound of footsteps drawing nearer before the curtain was tossed aside, and then he was in front of you, a sadistic smile contorting his features.  ‘Then we’ll have to do this the hard way.  Nothing personal, darlin’.’

You let out a frightened shriek of shock as he wrapped a hand around the back of the chair you were sitting on and span it round so he could drag you backwards through the doorway, manoeuvring you until you were positioned opposite your comrade, your eyes growing wide with dismay as you took in his bloodied state.  His eyes were puffy, his lip fat and bleeding, and dark bruises were already blooming over his cheekbones.  You could tell by the stiff way that he was holding himself on his own chair that he was in pain, his body probably bearing just as many marks under his clothes as his face did.  You wanted to reach out to him, to go to him and patch him up and try to help, but you were trapped, unable to move, unable to speak for fear of what the Governor and his men might do to you.  There were two others, standing either side of Daryl, big brutes with splashes of red across their knuckles, and you hated them and their wandering eyes as they stared you down.

‘You seem to care a damn sight more about this one than you do about yourself.  That’s interesting.’  The Governor was speaking and you struggled to focus on what he was saying, your mind still reeling in horror.  ‘It’s also a weakness, and that’s a dangerous thing to reveal to a man that’s willing to do whatever it takes to get the information he needs.’

There was a loud crack and then pain, so much pain, and heat rising in your cheek.  You could feel blood trickling down your face, and it was only then that you realised that he’d just backhanded you, the ring he wore slicing open your skin as Daryl looked on, powerless.

‘It’s okay, Daryl,’ you murmured, trying to catch his eye, to let him know that you could take this, whatever was coming.  You couldn’t bear it if he gave up the whereabouts of your group because of you, to save you.  He had to stay strong.  ‘I’m okay, I promise.’

Another blow, even harder this time, and the chair lurched sidewards, sending you tumbling to the floor, your head bouncing off the cold concrete with a sickening smack, causing you to see dancing lights in front of your eyes for a moment.  You blinked to clear them, nausea rising in your throat as you were tugged upright again, the ropes that bound you to your seat biting in to your skin.

‘Y/N!’  You could hear Daryl’s voice calling your name, but it sounded as though it was coming from very far away as the room span alarmingly.

‘Oh no, don’t you pass out on me now,’ the Governor warned, crouching down in front of you and watching as you continued to blink dazedly.  ‘We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover.’

He turned to Daryl who was fighting against his restraints, trying desperately to break free so he could end this.  ‘I’m gonna ask you again.  Where have you come from?’

‘Fuck you, ya prick,’ the redneck rasped, and your captor let out a growl of frustration.

‘Caesar, your knife.’

An icy panic caught a hold of you, sending a chill through your veins as you tried to focus on the long metal blade that the man on Daryl’s right offered up to the Governor.  _No, no, no, no, no._

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see anymore, but the sharp point pressed against your temple, pricking the skin and bringing a droplet of blood to the surface, before trailing down your cheek to rest in the small dimple at the corner of your mouth. The stinging sensation was overwhelming but you clamped your jaw together, not wanting to cry out and encourage Daryl to give these men what they wanted.  

‘Oh, we’ve got a tough one here, boys,’ your attacker snickered, and you glared at him, injecting every ounce of venom you had into the look as his smirk grew bigger.  ‘Such a shame to have to cut up that pretty face of yours.  Don’t you think?’  

He looked back to the archer who had turned his head away, only to have it forced forward again by Caesar. ‘Do you like art, either of you? I used to like art, back before the world ended.  The beauty of creating something from nothing.’

His fingers brushed over your bare arm as he circled you and you couldn’t help the shudder that ran through you at his touch.  ‘All this smooth skin, it reminds me of a fresh canvas.’

You couldn’t fight the shout that burst from your throat as he slashed his blade across your forearm, watching in amusement as blood oozed to the surface, seeping out, a slash of red in his macabre artwork.  ‘Let’s see what a pretty picture we can make of you.’

You lost all sense of time and place as the Governor worked over you, the knife nicking and tearing at your skin as he lacerated your body, stepping back every so often to admire his work, checking for symmetry in the patterns he created.  In the beginning, you forced yourself to keep talking, to reassure Daryl that you were okay, to beg him to keep quiet, but then you couldn’t talk anymore.  All you were was pain.  Every inch of you was burning with a fire so all-consuming that you thought it might eat you up and you longed for it, for an end to this torture, but it just went on and on and on.  You were vaguely aware of voices, of the Governor continuing to press Daryl for the answers he wanted, and the rasped protests of the archer as he struggled to keep his cool, to not spill every secret he had to gain your freedom.  But eventually even those drifted away.  Your limbs felt heavy, your body weak, and your head lolled forward, your hair falling over your face as your energy ebbed away.  You couldn’t take much more.  This was it. You knew it.  This was how you died.  There were too many cuts, too much pain, and the blood was streaming from your body now, your life flooding out from the gashes until there was almost nothing left.

And then, when you thought the pain couldn’t get any greater, suddenly the knife was buried in your thigh up to the hilt, and a scream of agony erupted from you, your eyes fluttering open in your body’s final fight for survival.  

The last thing you heard was Daryl’s desperate voice, pleading. ‘Enough!  Yer killin’ her!  Stop! I’ll tell ya anythin’ ya wanna know! Everythin’!  Just stop!’

 

* * *

 

There were hands on you, moving over your body, rough and cold, but their touch was gentle.  There was still pain, so much pain, but you could feel pressure on your wounds, stemming the blood flow, keeping you alive. Your back ached against the concrete floor, and your throat felt thick and sore.

When your eyes finally flickered open, they immediately met the piercing blue of the archer’s gaze as he leant over you, his brow creased with concern and you longed to reach up and smooth the lines away, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move.

‘Yer awake.’

‘Yeah,’ you croaked. ‘How long was I out?’

‘I’m not sure.  ‘Bout an hour maybe.’

‘Why did he stop?’ Daryl’s eyes left yours and he let out a noncommittal grunt before going back to dabbing at the cuts that marred your skin.  ‘Daryl…’

‘I told him what he wanted to know.’

A knot formed in your stomach as you pictured your people at the prison, going about their days, blissfully unaware that their safety had been compromised, that someone was coming for them.  ‘Why would you do that?’

‘Had to.’  You tried to keep the judgement from your face, but you saw him physically flinch at the disappointment as you looked up at him. ‘He was gonna kill ya, Y/N.’

‘You should’ve let him,’ you husked.  ‘He could kill all of them.  They don’t know he’s coming.  They won’t be ready.’

‘I know.’

‘So, why-‘

‘I couldn’t let ya die, alright?  I couldn’t just sit there ‘n’ let him…’  He sighed. ‘I did what I had t’ do.  I’d do it again if I had to.’

The sincerity in the archer’s voice brought tears to your eyes, and your emotions battled for prevalence – your fear and anger that he’d compromised your friends vying for dominance over your feelings of gratitude that he’d saved your life.

‘But why?’  Honestly, you’d never considered yourself particularly close to Daryl and were unable to believe that he’d put your life before the safety of those he really valued like Rick and Carol.  You’d often join him on runs but that was more due to your speed and proficiency with a rifle than any sort of sense of companionship. The way he was staring at you now was unexpected and your breath caught in your throat as he shrugged.

‘I dunno.’

‘Daryl…’  He bowed his head, the tips of his ears turning pink as he chewed on his bottom lip, hiding his face from your gaze whilst he tried to regain his composure before his eyes flicked back to yours.   _Surely not. He couldn’t possibly…_   But the blush was unmistakable and there was an intensity in his expression that you’d never seen before.  ‘Oh.’

‘Don’t expect nothin’ from ya,’ he mumbled, as he tightened the fabric that was knotted around your leg, staunching the flow of blood from your thigh.  You noticed then for the first time that his chest was bare, his back and shoulders covered only by his leather vest.  His shirt had been shredded so he could keep pressure on the worst of your wounds.  ‘Jus’ couldn’ let him hurt ya no more.  Yer my weakness, he got that right.’

You did reach for him then, gritting your teeth as you lifted your arm so you could cup his cheek in your hand, the scruff that covered his face softer against your palm than you had expected it to be.

‘Thank you, Daryl.’ You smiled as he tensed at your touch before relaxing against your fingers, his eyes drifting shut as you smoothed your thumb over the corner of his mouth.  ‘Thank you.’

You lost yourself in the moment as his gaze remained locked on yours, forgetting where you were, what had been done to you, and just letting yourself feel close to someone for the first time in a long time.  When he bent forward so he could rest his head on your shoulder, his breathing ragged as the trauma of the day’s events caught up with him, the physical contact surprised you, the scent of him and the warmth that emanated from him calming you and giving you hope as you twisted your head round to press a soft kiss to the top of his tousled hair.

When he pulled away several minutes later, the grim mask he wore had slipped back into place, and his voice was determined when he spoke.  ‘I’m gonna get ya out of here, I promise.  We’re gonna get back t’ the prison so we can warn e’ryone and we’re gon’ kill all o’ these bastards, e'ry last one.’

You nodded, glad that he was taking control, feeling immediately safer with Daryl taking the lead.  ‘We’ll do it together.’

‘Yeah, we will.’


End file.
